Now that he had her attention, Clint had no idea what to even say or where to even begin. He'd barely talked with anyone about this and he supposed if anyone was going to understand, it'd be her. Still, baring ones soul was never easy and it was even less appealing when your target audience wanted to rip your head off for leaving. He took a deep, steadying breath and continued to look over the crowd. "I wasn't capable of coping," he began, trying to find the words. "She died and I lost it. I barely remember my time in Spain. I was drunk or on some illegal potion... anything I could do to numb the pain." He'd been broken. "I didn't know how to cope. I didn't really want to. I wasn't ready to accept her death and it took a year and a half before I realized that I was destroying myself." He shrugged.
What else could he really say? He knew he was blamed for all the bad shite that had happened while he was gone but he knew he'd never have been able to deal with it while he was here. "Part of me died when she did," he murmured, feeling his throat close up a little. Clearing it, he looked over at her and then back out on the crowd. "I'm sorry I left you. I'm sorry I couldn't be strong enough for all of us and I'm sorry that you'll probably never be able to forgive me for it."
Well, if that wasn't soul-baring, he didn't know what was. "Most of all, I'm sorry I left you to suffer alone," he said. This was raw and emotional and the most he'd ever said about Lyssy. She could take it for what it was but he meant it. Every word.